Second String
by signnamehere
Summary: "You're pretty messed up, Berry. You finally got what you wanted and you let it go just like that."  "I would've lost it anyway…in the end. I guess that's the beauty of finally knowing your place."   Puckleberry friendship


**A/N: This is a reupload of the same story. I edited a little bit of the text because I got a review that said I shifted tenses at the end of the story. Thanks for all your honest critiques, I appreciate them! Now, on with the story!**

Puck being home before 10pm on a weeknight is an unusual sight to see, to say the least. Even though fathering a child with the school's resident virginal queen bee had a substantial blow to his reputation, he still managed to do some damage control and salvaged whatever was left of his rep based on pure brawn. His guns weren't exclusively for decorative purposes, you know? He used to them his advantage, too. It only took about a week of throwing innocent dweebs into a dumpster to prove that he was and still is, a badass. Yeah, he worked hard to get his ass back on the upper echelon of the social pyramid. No way is he blowing that off for Rachel Berry. Not even if she's crying her eyes out in front of her.

The reason he was staying in on a Friday night was basically because he had no other choice. His mom took on an extra shift down at the hospital, leaving him to take care of his little sister for the night. Normally, he would've been pissed off by this last minute babysitting duty, but somehow he found himself relieved to be away from the McKinley High scene. The parties were great and all but everything was just too…fake. It was refreshing to just stay home and veg. No need to be aware of anything that could potentially ruin his newly saved reputation.

After feeding his sister some Chinese take-out and watching some lame ass DVD about a frog turning into a price or some shit like that, he sent her up to her room to get ready for bed. After sending death threats her way to make sure that she actually does what he says, he went into his room and threw himself down on his bed. He really didn't know how long he lay there unstirred, staring at his ceiling. But he did feel himself drifting off to sleep after a while. But he heard a light pattering sound coming from his window and his senses were suddenly jolted by the strange sound. His brows knitted in confusion, he pushed himself off his bed and padded through to his window.

"What the hell?" he whispered to himself.

Rachel Berry, the girl that made him want to light himself on fire in the flesh, looking up at him from his front lawn.

"What do you want, Berry?" he called out in inquiry.

"Your light was on," she replied. Puck turned to his side table and saw that his lamp was, indeed, still turned on. "I figured you'd still be awake."

"What do you want?" he repeated.

"Can I come up? It's really cold this time of night." Apparently, she avoided questions just like she avoided singing bad notes. She didn't wait for Puck to refuse her access into his house (she knew he would). Instead, she began to climb up the tree and slipped through his window easily.

The light wasn't really all that bright to begin with, but even with just that he could see that the impeccably neat Rachel Berry was a mess. He took in the disheveled hair and the wrinkled clothes. They both looked like her hands had been in them too many times, running through it and crumpling it into fists. Add to that red, puffy eyes which were currently cast down, trying to avoid even looking at him. He really couldn't bring himself to be mean to her now.

"Hey." He really didn't know what to say. She looked smaller than she really is, with her crouched and hugging herself. And she still didn't look at him.

"I'm cold." She whispered. He swore he could hear her teeth chatter, and it wasn't even that cold. But maybe it was just him. He pulled his comforter from his bed and wrapped it around her, running his hands up and down her arms for good measure.

"You want some water?" Puck asked. Rachel nodded, her eyes still trained to the floor. He turned to his nightstand where a glass of water always lay in case he got thirsty in the middle of the night, grabbed it and offered it up to her. He watched her wordlessly take the glass and sip, wondering what was going on in that head of hers.

They stayed silent for a few moments, until Rachel could stop chattering. She finally looked up into his eyes when Puck softly nudged her out of her trance.

"I broke up with him. Can you believe that? _I _broke up with _him_."

Now Puck was really confused. He hasn't talked to Rachel in months. Yeah, he talked to her during glee rehearsals, but that didn't really mean much. Seeing her in his room because of God knows what reason is starting to get on his nerves. Even if she did look like her puppy got run over by a truck.

"Berry, stop." Puck said when he saw Rachel opening her mouth to speak. "You're talking shit and I don't even know why you're here."

"I needed a friend…" Rachel said softly, turning her eyes away and wrapping Puck's blanket tighter around herself. "And you're the closest thing I got."

Puck raised his eyebrows at her confession. It certainly wasn't something he was used to hearing. Usually, scorned girlfriends went to him for some revenge sex. He wasn't called to be a friend.

"I know you said that we're not friends," she whispered, "but I really could use someone who knows me aside from…Finn. And you're the only one I could really think of. Please."

Puck scratched the back of his head, something he did when he was thinking things through. Right now he was thinking if letting Rachel Berry infiltrate his inner sanctum was a wise thing to do. But her eyes are all watery and her lips pouty. She looked like she was trying really hard not to cry. Puck sighed and led her to his bed. To sit on, of course. He took a seat across from her by his desk.

"Alright, Berry. What do you want to talk about?"

"I just broke up with your best friend."

"And this is important to me, how?" Rachel glared at Puck, which made him kind of glad because she started to look like the Rachel Berry he knew, instead of the weepy, pathetic one standing before him now.

"Noah, must you be so contemptible?"

"Excuse me? Did I sign up for a vocabulary lesson at…" he turned to his alarm clock, "1:30 in the morning?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine. I apologize, Noah. Will you listen to me now?"

He cocked up his eyebrow to signal her to go on with her story.

"I broke up with Finn…and it might strike as odd but I feel kind of proud that I did it…" Rachel said as Puck approached his bed and took a seat next to her. "He was always the one that had a say in our relationship. When he wanted me and when he didn't, when he loved me…and I was always just right there waiting for him to make up his mind…but it was wonderful to finally be the one to make the decisions, albeit, it was the end of the relationship."

"Why'd you even break up? The last I saw you, you guys were being all couply with his and her relationship calendars and shit."

"I broke up with him because he loves Quinn."

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion because the words that kept echoing in his head were "No he doesn't. He loves you."

Rachel seemed to read his mind and said, "Believe me, he still does…he can't help it, I guess. Whenever she passes by, he gets this look."

"A look?"

"Yes…I really can't explain it," she said as she haphazardly ran a hand through her hair, something Puck never saw her ever do. "But I know that it's not me that he wants. And I broke up with him because I'm tired of being the second choice."

Puck watched as Rachel took a deep breath. Her eyes were glued to a spot in his room as she spoke softly, "I'm always the second choice. If I didn't make myself first, no one would."

"You're pretty messed up, Berry. You finally got what you wanted and you let it go just like that."

"I would've lost it anyway…in the end. I guess that's the beauty of finally knowing your place."

Puck really didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to say the moment she climbed into his window, actually. What do you say to a girl whose heart is broken because she didn't get the love that she deserved? Puck couldn't really formulate a string of words that could at least make her feel a little bit better, because he's been there himself. So he reclined and felt his back hit his bed and stared at his ceiling. She didn't move an inch and continued to stare at the same spot for a good five minutes or so. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was too busy recollecting the recent turn of events inside her head to notice that he'd shifted positions. Soon enough he felt the bed shift as she flopped on her back next to him, the tips of her hair splayed on his shoulder. For a while all both of them could hear were the sounds of their own breathing, until Puck broke the silence.

"You know, Rachel, we're two of a kind, you and me." Puck said, still staring at the ceiling. Rachel turned her head in time with his and searched his eyes for an explanation.

"Quinn…" Rachel whispered.

"Yeah." Puck said, "You're not the only one who's second string."

Rachel sayid nothing but leaned her head on his shoulder and touched her hand to his. He didn't mind the contact at all. It felt kind of nice, if he was being perfectly honest.

"What a pair we make." She said finally, after minutes of silence. Puck let out a small laugh before nodding.

Puck felt her fingertips scratch light patterns into his palm. He gripped her hand tighter to make it stop. He turned his head towards her and saw her already looking up at him.

"Do you think I'll ever be first string?"

Puck just smiled and reached out to push at her disheveled hair, focused on a particular tendril that fell on her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

"No doubt in my mind, Rach."

Rachel smiled, satisfied with his answer, tucked her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes.


End file.
